The Olympus Device: Book Three (30 page)

He didn’t even aim, not wanting to take the time to raise the weapon to his shoulder. Pointing from the hip, Dusty squeezed the trigger.

The rental house exploded in a fireball of white and red, the blast lifting Andy and his father into the air with a wall of burning hot air.

The two men slammed hard into the pavement, rolling across the street with rag-doll arms flopping from the gale of force that expanded outwards from the shot’s epicenter.

No sooner than he’d stopped moving, Dusty felt large chunks of siding, wood, and other airborne debris raining down. His last conscious movement was to try and shield Andy with his body.

Grace’s smiling face was the first vision that popped into Dusty’s mind. That pleasant experience was quickly followed by a less pleasurable feeling when the Texan tried to move his limbs.

Bolts of pain shot through Dusty’s frame as he attempted to sit up, his body protesting the effort to the extreme.

“Stay put,” Grace stated with a firm tone. “The paramedics are looking you over. You might have some broken bones.”

“Andy?” Dusty inquired, his kid’s welfare the first thought.

“He’s okay. The bomb squad guys are removing the explosives, and then the EMTs will check him out as well, but he’s okay. You did it, Dusty. You actually pulled this off.”

The knowledge that Andy was unharmed helped offset some of Dusty’s discomfort. His next question was almost as important. “Where’s the rail gun?”

“Mitch has it. He’s standing right over there, with Monroe and Shultz. They’re not taking any chances. It’s fine.”

Dusty nodded, smiled, and closed his eyes.

“We need to take him into the ER, Miss Kennedy,” Dusty heard a male voice say. “He needs a series of x-rays. While we can’t find any obvious broken bones, his body has taken quite a beating, and it would be wise to have him checked out.”

His eyes shooting open, Dusty protested, “No. No hospital. Just help me up. I'm okay.”

Grace and an EMT appeared at his side, the medical man wanting to argue with the patient. “Sir, it’s really best if you let us take you in. You could have internal bleeding or hairline fractures we can’t detect.”

“No,” Dusty answered, his voice firm. “Please, help an old man up,” he continued, extending his arms for a lift.

And then he was standing, a bit unsteady on wobbly legs, but supporting his own weight. A moment later, Andy was at his father’s side, gingerly wrapping his arms around his dad’s chest for an embrace. “You came for me,” he said. “I knew you would. I just knew it.”

And then Maria appeared, Dusty’s ex holding her son in a tight, nurturing hug. Initially, she flashed her ex-husband a dirty look, a message that could only be interpreted as: “How dare you endanger our son,” but then she softened and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Dusty refused to seek medical attention, and that was that.

After repeating the events that happened in the street for almost an hour to the FBI men, the Texan finally declared that enough was enough. He promised to answer any others questions the feds could dream up in the morning.

Dusty slept for hours, never once complaining about the hotel room’s lousy bed or the constant ringing of Grace’s cell phone.

She had just stepped back inside after completing another call when Dusty rolled over and attempted to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Did anybody get the number of that truck?” he grumbled, gingerly testing his limbs and back. “I feel like I’ve been in a cage fight with a bear.”

“There’s some coffee over here,” she responded, pouring a cup and then bringing it to him. “Maybe this will help you feel a little more human.”

“Thank you,” he replied, raising the steaming brew to his mouth. “What have you been up to? I was dreaming that you were running for the office of president of the United States.”

She laughed, bending to kiss his forehead. “Not exactly, but I can understand why you might dream that. I’ve been on the phone with the White House staff on and off all day.”

“So it’s really over?” he asked, half wondering if that had been a dream as well.

“Yes, it’s over. Andy is safe; the country is safe, and you’re pardoned… a free man.”

Dusty smiled, letting it all wash over him. “Good. Then I can go home?”

Grace sighed, sat down beside him, and placed a caring hand on his knee. “Not exactly.”

“What? What do you mean? I’m pardoned. A free man. Unwanted. I can go where I want – right?”

“While the government no longer wishes to confiscate your invention, they don’t want anyone else getting their hands on it either. And I can understand their point. A virtual parade of foreign governments, criminals, thrill seekers, and the curious would descend on West Texas. Unless you want a full armored division of the U.S. Army surrounding your ranch, returning home is out of the question.”

Dusty didn’t want to accept her lawyer’s logic. “I thought we were going to figure out some method of turning the rail gun over for scientific research and exploitation for peaceful purposes? Why would anyone want to bother me if it’s made clear I no longer possess the damned thing?”

Grace brushed his cheek, trying to sooth away what she knew was troubling the man she loved. “Dusty, think about this for a minute. Put yourself in the place of a desperate foreign government. Would you believe the rail gun was an accident? Would you buy the story that Durham Weathers couldn’t build another one? You would be kidnapped in a heartbeat, hustled off to some gulag, and tortured until you gave up the secret to the technology.”

Pride overcame reason, Dusty stiffening his spine and puffing out his chest. “They better bring a small fucking army with ’em if they’re going to try and take me off my land.”

Grace didn’t respond. Instead, she merely smiled, giving the troubled Texan time to think it through. Mitch, however, wasn’t as diplomatic. “Brother, you know they
will
come with that army. You can’t watch your back forever… even you can’t remain on guard 24-7 for the rest of your life.”

Reality soon dawned, Dusty rising off the couch and strolling to the small room’s window, a heavy sadness filling his heart. “So I’m basically screwed for the remainder of my days? All because I got lucky and pieced together some components with bailing twine and duct tape? This is unbelievable. All I want is to go home, fiddle around in my shop fixing duck guns, and occasionally take a beautiful lawyer I know out on Saturday night. Is that too much to ask?”

Grace rose and joined him by his side. After putting her arm around him, she responded, “Yes, for a time, going home will be impossible. But don’t give up hope just yet. We’ll figure out some way to protect you and the rail gun, and then I’m sure the government will help you with something like the witness protection program… something to help you establish a new identity.”

“All of our lives are changed forever, Dusty,” Mitch added. “Even Andy and Maria will have to be protected and hidden. I’ll never be able to go back to A&M. The same evil element that would come after you might think I know the rail gun’s secrets as well. My wife and kids would never be safe again.”

Dusty shook his head in disgust, the scope of their situation becoming clearer. “I’m sorry I got you all into this. I wish I could take it all back… I don’t know what else to say. Sounds like I’ve messed up everybody’s life.”

Mitch joined the couple at the window, facing his brother and placing a reassuring hand on the older man’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dusty. Seriously, it will all be fine. The benefits of your discovery will outweigh our inconveniences. We’re all in this together, and we’ll make it work. I promise.”

“Thanks, Mitch,” Dusty said with barely a whisper.

For a bit, the Texan just stared outside, clearly lost in thought. Eventually, his attention returned to the present. “So what’s the next step? Let’s get this rodeo in gear.”

Relieved he wasn’t going to fall into a dark void of depression, Grace perked up as well. “The president is going to Camp David to meet with his advisors. Until then, we’re to lay low and keep out of sight. No one has any clue how long it will take to come up with a solid plan for what to do with the rail gun.”

Dusty looked around at their cramped hideout, wrinkling his nose at the low budget decor. “Any chance we can move to a bit more classy digs?”

Grace chuckled, “Actually, they would prefer it if we just stayed here and out of sight.”

Pointing his finger toward Washington and inhaling deeply, Dusty was about to unleash a string of unkind words. His rant was stopped cold by Grace’s mischievous look.

“I told them that was unacceptable. Furthermore, I explained that we wanted to sneak back to Texas while they were contemplating our future,” she informed the still-steaming Texan. “I want to go home and get my affairs in order, and I assumed you both would want to do the same. They can protect us for a little while… at least long enough so that we can pack a bag or two.”

Dusty’s smile was bright and wide, “And they agreed?”

Nodding, Grace said, “Yes, they decided that it is probably safer for us right now to be in the Lone Star State, especially if the world thinks we are still in our nation’s capital. We’ll even have United States Federal Marshals to escort us on the drive home.”

In the blink of an eye, Grace was lifted off her feet, Dusty spinning her around in circles. “Yes!” he said with glee. “God, I miss my ranch.”

“I promised we’d keep a low profile. We have to stay out of sight and not visit anybody.”

“No problem,” Dusty committed. “I just want to walk my land again, even if it is for the last time.”